


when you can't sleep

by rysanthel



Category: VIXX
Genre: Light Angst, Lols, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, although i would prefer to call them, basically just two fucked up persons stuck with each other, everyone pls ship leobin tyvm, hongbin the painter, i guess, leobin being angsty, taekbin, the timeline was a mess here, what a concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-03 21:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rysanthel/pseuds/rysanthel
Summary: Maybe Taekwoon dealt with Hongbin's nightmares just so he could forget his own.





	when you can't sleep

**Author's Note:**

> hi! seems that you've stumbled across one of my works and I'd like to say hellu~  
> 
> 
> this is another trial of angst which i hope didn't end with error (no pun intended hahah) and if you decided to give this a try, i hope you enjoy. this really is a mess tho aaa  
> 
> 
> have a nice day or night, whatever you're having when you read this ♥  
> 
> 
> R xx

_"Do you have nightmares too, hyung?"_

 

✖✖✖

 

It was already May, but the weather still felt somewhat like the early winter. Sometimes it was warm and windy, but usually it was just cold with a lot of rain.

Taekwoon rested his head against the car window, feeling the soft murmurs from the engine. His breath formed steam on the glass surface. There was no bus operating at that time yet, so Taekwoon had to take a taxi and wasted half an hour waiting for one. He could drive by himself; it would be much faster, but he figured he was too tired for that.

The inside of the car was damp and it smelled like cheap cologne, but Taekwoon felt kind of relaxed. His stare was grazing the empty road. There wasn’t any car running around, and his mind wandered to where his bed was. He finally fell asleep after hours of tossing and turning earlier, then his phone went off and woke him up. Taekwoon would have ignored the call if it wasn’t Hongbin.

“I can’t sleep.” The younger’s voice sounded hoarse—he didn’t even say hello. “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

The phone led was always too bright in the dark and Taekwoon had to narrow his eyes to see it. It was ten to three in the morning; almost an hour after their call. No new messages yet from Hongbin—well, Taekwoon would know by the notification sound if there were. He didn’t really expect it either, but that didn’t stop him to check his phone every two minutes anyway.

The taxi dropped him off in front of the old apartment building where Hongbin lived. Taekwoon moved in autopilot from there—he climbed the stairs to Hongbin’s apartment, took out the spare key, and opened the door with eyes half closed. The thick scent of acrylic paints welcomed him when he got inside. It didn’t smell good, but it felt familiar and way much better than the weird smell from the taxi.

“You said twenty,” Hongbin mumbled heavily from the couch, soft but slightly annoyed, and maybe there was a hint of relief because Taekwoon was finally there. "It felt way longer than that."

“There aren't many taxis around this time,” Taekwoon replied, his voice echoed in the silent room. He walked towards the couch Hongbin was lying on and kneeled in front of it, running his fingers through Hongbin’s disheveled hair. “Don’t sleep here. Come to bed with me."

Hongbin let himself be dragged to his room. It was dark, but Taekwoon knew where everything was; the drawer, the messy bed, the empty bookshelf that was there only to fill the corner, the mirror that collected dust, the wet towel Hongbin left on the floor after showering.

Hongbin fell back asleep in Taekwoon’s arms, and Taekwoon found peace with Hongbin by his side.

 

***

 

Sometimes nightmares didn’t wake Hongbin up, but they put him paralyzed in fear, cold sweat and hands clenching hard, leaving bright red crescents on his palms.

“Cut your nails,” Taekwoon told him. "You'll hurt your hands more."

“Doesn’t matter,” Hongbin replied.

But he didn’t protest much when Taekwoon took the nail clipper and cut his nails.

"You can do this yourself, you know," the older grumbled.

Hongbin shrugged. He could. He just didn't.

"You're a painter. You have to take care of these hands," he continued in between the tick tick sound of nail clipper.

"I don't even paint anymore."

Taekwoon opened his mouth, and Hongbin knew he was going to hear the same old song of you-will-be-back-to-painting-I-believe-in-you that Taekwoon kept on repeating, but in the end Taekwoon decided not to. He kept his lips pursed as he cut Hongbin's nails carefully so he wouldn't add any wounds to his hands. Hongbin's fingers were much smaller compared to Taekwoon's slender ones—it was one of the things that Taekwoon found endearing about Hongbin.

Taekwoon bought him three nail clippers and placed them around the house; one in his room, one on the sink near the toothbrush, and one in the living room. Hongbin still didn't bother to cut his nails.

Taekwoon cut them for him once every two weeks.

 

***

 

Lee Hongbin in Taekwoon's first memory of him was a bright nineteen years old teenager with a promising future ahead. He ran the fastest, laughed the loudest, jumped the highest, excited like a kitten getting out of its cardboard box for the first time. His eyes caught the beauty in everything and his hands converted them on canvases.

Hongbin clinged to twenty two years old Taekwoon like an annoying little brother Taekwoon never had. He followed his "Daeguni hyung" around, took a bite of his lunch for every two bites for Taekwoon, he poked Taekwoon's belly in the train to make him laugh in public. He would sneak into Taekwoon's room through the window, force him to stay up outside together just to stargaze and end up falling asleep with his cheek on Taekwoon's chest, fingers loosely gripping Taekwoon's shirt, and later deny that he drooled on him.

Hongbin was young, cheerful, and he made Taekwoon forget about everything.

Hongbin was the reason Taekwoon started playing piano again.

It began from a small chit chat. Hongbin asked him, "What are you going to do in the future?" which Taekwoon answered with, "I'm not sure."

Hongbin told him to be a pianist.

"I saw you playing the piano once. You're really good, hyung. You'll go places with that."

"I don't know about it."

"Wanna bet on it? The winner gets a kiss?"

"Gross."

"Are you saying that you don't want a kiss?"

Taekwoon answered to it, not with words but with his lips on Hongbin's. Soft. Brief. It ended as fast as it happened, but Taekwoon could still taste the mint from the gum Hongbin chewed a while ago. Hongbin smiled, faint pink blush on his cheeks. They didn't see fireworks or feel the tingles, but a kiss was a kiss. They brought it back home and replayed it in their heads until sleep put them to rest.

Lee Hongbin five years later, however, was unfortunately a different story.

 

***

 

Hongbin stood in front of an unfinished scenery painting of his, holding a bottle of beer instead of brush and palette. He grimaced at the shade of red and orange of what Taekwoon supposed was meant to be sunset.

"This is fucking disgusting."

"I think it's beautiful."

It wasn't a lie. Taekwoon did say it out of sincerity. Hongbin just sneered at his words.

The next day, Taekwoon found the canvas board on the floor, torn and broken into pieces. Stained with red. Hongbin's hands were bruised. Cuts and purple knuckles.

Hongbin watched in silence as Taekwoon took the broken canvas out and cleaned the mess. Taekwoon then left the apartment without a word, and came back after around half an hour with an aid kit. He told Hongbin to rinse his hands under running water to clean the wounds, and when Hongbin didn't budge, he dragged him to it.

"It's okay if you don't care about me, but _I_ care about you," Taekwoon said later when they sat on the couch. The cuts weren't deep, so he just applied antibiotic cream and put bandages on them. They should be fine in a few days, but the bandages still had to be changed daily to prevent infection—which would definitely be Taekwoon's job to do since Hongbin wasn’t that good of person in taking care of himself anymore. "You're hurting the most important person of mine right now, you know that?" he added.

The bitterness in Taekwoon's words stung, worse than the first wash of water on his wounds, and it put guilt hanging on Hongbin's chest. "You're important to me too," he mumbled. His voice sounded unsure and slightly ashamed.

"Not as important as I wished I was, though."

It came out more like a question than a statement, as if Taekwoon was asking for a reassurance, maybe denials, but Hongbin didn't have anything to say. Taekwoon didn't really expect him to, either.

 

***

 

"I don't know why I became like this," Hongbin said one night. It was half past two. The rain was just getting started. Taekwoon had his eyes closed, but Hongbin knew he was still awake.

"I'm fucked up."

Only the sound of thunders and heavy rain hitting the bedroom window filled Hongbin’s room.

"Right?" Hongbin insisted.

Taekwoon opened his eyes and replied with a hum, “Yeah.”

"But you love me?"

Taekwoon answered to it in the only way Hongbin could understand. He kisses Hongbin’s forehead, wet with sweat despite the cold. He kissed Hongbin’s cheek; where his dimple would appear when he smiled. He kissed Hongbin’s lips, dry and chapped and tasted like salt from the tears he shed quietly, thinking that Taekwoon wouldn't hear him. When they parted, lips only an inch apart and Taekwoon inhaled the air Hongbin released, a soft sob escaped Hongbin’s throat.

“I’m not who I was." Hongbin's lower lip was trembling. "I'm not Lee Hongbin you used to know."

Taekwoon took Hongbin’s hand. His thumb caressed the knuckles, drew circles on the rough skin that covered with scars and bruises. It didn’t feel anything like the soft, small hand Taekwoon used to hold under the night skies full of stars, but he didn’t care. “It doesn’t matter.”

"I don't even know who I am."

"We'll find out," Taekwoon uttered quietly. Not _you_. Not _me_. _We_. "We'll be fine."

“I honestly don’t know why you put up with me.”

Silence again.

"Hyung, where did I go wrong?"

“Go to sleep, Hongbin,” Taekwoon sighed.

"What if I ever wake up and you're not there?"

"It won't happen."

“Do you have nightmares too, hyung?”

Taekwoon took too long to respond, so Hongbin left the question unanswered as that. He tangled his leg between Taekwoon’s and snuggled into his arms—that was the only place he felt the closest to okay, even if it was just for a night.

“Everyone does,” Taekwoon’s voice trailed off in the noise of rain and thunders when Hongbin had already fallen into his safe haven.

 

***

 

Taekwoon brought a couple of new plain canvas boards to Hongbin’s apartment. “For you when you start painting again,” he said.

Hongbin only stared at him dead in the eyes, furious and probably a bit of skeptical—hard to tell when both of his drunken eyes were red and drowsy. “Get them the fuck out of here!” he roared.

Taekwoon didn’t budge.

Hongbin dropped his beer bottle on the floor, too hard that it shattered with a loud crash. “Fine! I’ll throw them out myself.” He took those canvases and stomped out the apartment; kind of tipsy, pieces of shattered glass cut his feet.

Taekwoon brought two more the next day, with a pair of brand new brushes. Hongbin drove them and also Taekwoon out.

Taekwoon always came back.

He brought along new canvases, brushes, and palettes, and Hongbin found himself on his knees, begging Taekwoon to stop. “Hyung, can’t you understand? I can’t. _I. Fucking. Can’t!_ ”

Taekwoon acted as if he couldn’t hear that. “I’m buying you more paints tomorrow. I guess you can't use the old ones anymore."

“This is so hard for me. Hyung, please…”

Hongbin ended up crying, pulling his hair out of frustration, fists punching the floor. He punched Taekwoon’s face too, as a warning that the evil voice inside his head wouldn't let the older man win over it. But Taekwoon was darn stubborn, and he came back with the cans of paint he promised another day.

The bruise near his eyebrow that was purple had sunk into the socket and left a black eye on his face. It didn't seem to bother Taekwoon.

Hongbin refused to look at him.

“Don’t you miss painting?” Taekwoon asked him softly.

“I’m writing you a song, I’ll play it for you after I finished it,” Taekwoon told him later at night.

“I won’t give up on you,” Taekwoon whispered from behind Hongbin’s shoulder. He had his arms around Hongbin’s waist under the blanket, because the younger couldn't bring himself to face him, but couldn’t fall asleep without him either.

 

***

 

Nightmares didn't take Hongbin over all at once. It stole Hongbin's nights first, leaving him restless and scared through the long hours alone. It stole the light in his eyes, then the sound of his laughter. It slowly took his days too, pulling Hongbin away from the world he used to love and covering his eyes with paranoia. Eventually it started living inside his paintings. Hongbin began to drop his brushes, hands twitching anxiously. Then he threw his palettes away. Colors became eerie and too vivid. Rainbows turned into the monsters from his childhood that he didn't remember of.

His busy parents said "it's probably just a phase" and "you can get over it". Hongbin couldn't. They reluctantly took some time between their schedules and came with him to the doctor.

"You don't have to be sad," he said. "Do something, you'll feel better."

Hongbin tried. He painted. He worked out. He ate the green, even ones he disliked. It didn't work.

"Someone had it worse," he continued. "You should do this... you shouldn't do that..."

The words became blurry. Nonsense. Bullshit.

Hongbin got antidepressants prescribed and empty promises that he would get better soon. He didn't get better at all.

Painting was no longer an escape, so he just stopped. It was useless anyway. Nothing would change and he could change nothing, no matter how much he tried.

Hongbin didn't know since when he started to run to Taekwoon instead.

Maybe it started from _hyung, what are you doing? I can't sleep, can you play some songs for me by phone?_  to _hyung, I'm scared. Can you come here? Please_ but Hongbin learned that his nights were easier to go through when he had a company. His nightmares didn't magically vanish, but they were bearable when there was someone for him to hug and cry on.

Taekwoon didn't tell him it would get better. He didn't really say anything when Hongbin told him about his nightmares, as if he already knew Hongbin wouldn't believe any words he said. As if he understood what could possibly make Hongbin cry in his sleep.

Sometimes Hongbin hated him for that.

He kind of expected Taekwoon to be terrified of him and leave. Taekwoon didn't. Hongbin waited. It was just about time, he thought. No one could fix him—he was way too broken. Sooner or later Taekwoon would give him up like how everyone else did; like how Hongbin did himself. But Taekwoon stayed.

Sometimes Hongbin loved him for that.

 

***

 

Taekwoon cut Hongbin’s pinky nail and stared at the pair of hands for a moment, admiring the neatly cut nails, a subtle smile on his face. The bruises and scars on Hongbin’s skin faded like the pitch dark sky before sunrise showed itself. “Done.”

Hongbin was staring, not at Taekwoon but past him, off the space only existed in his eyes. "What's in it for you, hyung? This is pointless. The world doesn't even need me."

" _I_ need you."

"Why."

"Because you're you."

"I'm fucked up."

"I know."

Those small hands took Taekwoon’s face between them and Hongbin leaned in. Soft. Brief. Hongbin closed his eyes and Taekwoon smiled into the kiss. It felt almost like the first time, when everything was fine and they were happy.

Hongbin pulled away, only far enough so he could speak softly, “I love you, hyung. Do you believe me?”

Taekwoon let out the breath he was holding. “I do," he whispered. That was the only lie he wanted to believe.

There was hope deep inside him that Hongbin really did mean it; _if he didn't before, he does now_. But another part of him, the bigger and controlling one, told him it was just a temporary fact; _it only lasts for so long._

Taekwoon would cling to it either way.

That night, Hongbin didn’t run to Taekwoon’s arms for sleep. He stayed awake before the canvas board until it was nearly four. By the time the bird started to chirp outside and the sunlight washed the damp room with warmth, the rough sketch still wasn’t finished yet, but Hongbin told him what it was supposed to be.

“Your hands. I want to paint your hands.”

Taekwoon kept him company.

 

***

 

Taekwoon too, had nightmares. It kept him awake until he had to give up to the sleeping pills he got prescribed from a doctor, and when he finally fell asleep, he whined in terror, breathing heavy and fingers clawing at pillows. He woke up in the middle of night with swollen eyes, choking up on tears, overwhelmed by the urge to scream. He wasn’t in his room—it had been a while since he slept in his own apartment—but he was alone. His eyes immediately darted around in panic. Hongbin was nowhere to be seen.

Taekwoon let out a sigh of relief when he found him in the living room, standing in front of the canvas. There was a shy smile formed on Hongbin’s face when he noticed Taekwoon's presence. “Did I wake you up?”

Taekwoon didn’t answer. He approached the younger and hugged him from behind his back. Tight. Looking for safety.

“What’s wrong, hyung?” Hongbin asked, voice sounded slightly worried.

Taekwoon cleared his throat before answering, “I was looking for you.” He hoped Hongbin didn't notice that his voice cracked.

Hongbin put his brush and palette down. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Taekwoon shook his head, refusing to let go. “It’s okay. Just continue what you’re doing.”

Hongbin insisted to company him, so Taekwoon let himself be dragged back to the room. It was dark and cold; it reminded Taekwoon of the hallucination from his dream. He started to see it everywhere.

Hongbin fiddled with Taekwoon’s hand, eyes starting to fall close. His excitement made him didn’t want to admit he was tired earlier, but then when they lay on the bed, the warmth from Taekwoon’s body against his and the silence made his eyelids grew heavy in minutes.

The thought came across Hongbin's mind out of nowhere. "It's been long since the last time I saw you playing piano."

"Yeah," Taekwoon agreed to him, not adding anything else, because he didn't quite remember either when was the last time he sat to play.

"I miss it."

His hand went to fill the gaps between Taekwoon's long digits when Hongbin felt the sharp points from the tip of the fingers brushed his skin. "Hyung, cut your nails,” he spoke drowsily.

Taekwoon took so long to respond, too long that Hongbin thought the older was already asleep, and he was about to doze off as well, but he heard Taekwoon saying very quietly, “Tomorrow.”

Taekwoon didn’t cut his nails tomorrow, or whenever. He could. He simply didn’t.

 

***

 

Taekwoon never finished the song he once mentioned—Hongbin didn't quite remember it to ask, either.

 

✖✖✖

**Author's Note:**

> p.s : i wrote this when i couldn't sleep and then, a month later, i finally found a [song](https://youtu.be/70VlAyEUXYM) that helps me sleep ~~and cry~~ lol


End file.
